The Muggles from Kansas
by voxinatwitch
Summary: Sam and Dean are staking out strange happenings in a small town in the English countryside when they unexpectedly encounter the Wizarding world, where things work quite differently than they are used to. HP is AU sometime after the events of Deathly Hallows.
1. Chapter 1

Sam sighed, looking back over his shoulder at the large rocks that littered the hillside before the farm fields began. They were in England, where Cas had sent them, staking out the edge of town since word was something strange had been going on there during the night.

"Sammy? Do you have the silver bullets?" Dean's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yeah, Dean, why—"

Dean sent a hard elbow to his ribs, making him cringe as he gazed from between the bushes toward what Dean was looking at.

"Oh—" A sight unlike any other he'd before seen met his eyes, a large, furry gray form, something between humanoid and canid stood over trashcans, rooting around.

"Oh's right. We've got ourselves a werewolf." Dean grinned.

"Yeah, but, why's—wait, what's it doing in the garbage?!" Sam exclaimed.

"Hell if I know! What are you waiting for, are you gonna insist on going up and shaking its paw and asking it 'Hi wolfie, how do you do," before you admit it's a friggin' monster and gank it?"

"I dunno, though. Something about it seems a little off—" Sam said cautiously.

"Dude, you _do _remember what happened last time you started screwing around with werewolves, right?"

"You don't have to bring it up," Sam snapped angrily, covering his pocket that had the bullets in it. "But that's not now. And something about this doesn't feel right. I'm not willing to do this until we know for sure what's up."

"Still, we need to be ready in case something happens," Dean argued. "What if it jumps on somebody ready to rip their heart out, huh? Waiting to give me the damn bullets 'til then will be too late."

"Fine," Sam muttered, grudgingly handing over a handful of bullets to Dean, who loaded the gun with them.

"There. Now if you really insis—"

Sam felt a whoosh of air, and heard a dull thud, and the sound of a crack, which made him whip around simultaneously, reflexively brandishing the angel blade he carried at his hip.

"Oh, sh—" He barely had time to grunt before the werewolf leapt off of Dean and came crashing down on him.

Its front paws contacted his chest, sending him sprawling before he could recoil to get a decent swing in. He managed to slice at the creature's shoulder with his blade before it ripped it from his hands with its jaws, slinging it away.

"Oh, my god," he breathed as the creature stood over him, its massive front paws pinning him down.

"Oh, my god….Dean! De—" he rasped, fear wracking his mind as he tried futilely to wrestle against the creature, but it's weight pressed so hard on his chest, even if Dean was alive or conscious, he realized, his voice was so stunted it was unlikely he'd hear it.

"Remus!" A sharp female voice cut in. "Merlin, what happened?!"

A woman in a long dark robe came running, a cloud of curly brown hair whipping around her in the wind as she came to a stop standing over Sam and the beast.

The werwolf, still standing on Sam's chest, looked up at her for an instant, growling in a low voice, a sound that made his skin crawl perhaps even more than the fact that it was pinning him to the ground, making him want more than anything to stab it or get away.

Yet, the woman tilted her head, as if listening to it as the wolf finished his guttural utterance, which began with a growl, segued into a whimper, and finished with another sharp growl.

"No, I see. Please, let me."

"Stupefy!" She proclaimed as she whipped out a thin stick, which for a moment had Sam wondering what she was doing, at least in the split second before the red flash appeared, and everything went numb.

The next thing Sam was aware of, it seemed as if his head was full of flies, buzzing, like his sinuses were thick with them. He heard a groan, one he realized slowly, was his own, as he came back to his senses.

A chair, he was sitting in a chair, he realized, feeling the warm wood beneath his legs. His head rather hurt, and as his eyes opened, he saw the same woman from before standing in front of him.

"If this really is just a very strange misunderstanding, as I hope, then I would like to go ahead and apologize for the invasion. But if this situation as it seems to me, then I'm afraid such extreme measures were justified, given just how brazenly you were threatening my friends," the woman spoke distinctly, pointing the stick at a…wand?…at Sam's throat.

"Now, understand," she continued, "I won't hesitate to stun you again if need be, but I know firsthand it's not the most pleasant experience, so for your own comfort you might prefer no to do anything rash. If you agree to this, I won't restrain you if you cooperate."

Sam nodded, looking down to realize he indeed wasn't bound to the chair he sat in.

"Yeah, no," he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to get rid of the strange itchy feeling the spell had left. "I don't, I won't uh, do anything. You don't have to do that again. I don't have any weapons, anyways," he shrugged, "Since it looks like you and your uh, werewolf friends took care of that."

"You're American," the woman frowned. "Well, that might at least explain your proclivity towards firearms," she sighed, glancing at the rifle she must have gotten from Dean, which was leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, "But I have plenty of other questions I'd like to have answers to."

"And, by the way, don't bother with that. It's not loaded anymore," she added quickly, noticing Sam's gaze following hers.

"So do I, have questions, I mean," Sam returned. "Like, first of all, who are you, and what sort of magic are you practicing, teaming up with a werewolf?"

"I'm Hermoine," she frowned. "And you are?"

"Sam. And that's my brother, Dean," he nodded to his brother, who was still unconscious, laid on the couch.

"Yes, and you asked me about magic?" Hermione pressed, frowning.

"Yeah, you're not the first witch we've run into. But what's with that wand? I've never seen that. I mean I've seen a staff, but, really? Isn't that kind of…well, trite?" Sam managed a weak laugh.

"Trite? Oh, the ideas stories put in peoples' heads," she muttered, shaking her head. "You're correct, I'm a witch. But all wizards I've met use wands. It's the safest and most precise way to channel our magic."

"Yeah, uh, OK…" Sam trailed off. "You said wizards. What, are you in a coven?"

"A coven? No, no." She shook her head. "But, how do you know about us, the Wizarding community?"

"Wizarding community? We don't have anything like that where we're from," Sam said. "There's individual covens, but I don't think there's any larger association—"

"That's truly odd," Hermione mused. "The Americans have their own forms of Ministry and regulatory bodies. For a Muggle who knows about our society, you're quite misinformed. Also, I really doubt they'd be so careless as to leave a Muggle wandering about with such knowledge, unless, of course, are you related to wizard of any sort?"

"Wizard? No. Closest we have to anything of the sort in our family was our grandfather. He was a Man of Letters. We're all hunters."

"A Man of Letters? I haven't heard of that before."

"They documented the supernatural," Sam explained. "At least, until demons killed them all off. My brother and I are all that's left of them, I guess. And, by the way, what are muggles?"

"People without magic who are uninitiated in the ways of the Wizarding world," she explained. "But then, you said you were hunters. Do I even want to know what it is you presume to hunt?"

"Monsters, demons, pretty much anything that gets out of control and kills people," Sam said.

"And, I suppose," she said, her face growing dark as she spoke, "That is what you assumed my friends were. Monsters, to be killed."

"Well, in fairness, we've seen our fair share of werewolves, and very few of them are friendly. Most of them will sooner rip your heart out than look at you." Sam said, shaking his head. "Although, not all. We were watching, seeing what was going on when your werewolf friend jumped on us."

"Then why did you have a rifle loaded with silver bullets?" Hermione asked grimly producing a handful of the bullets from the pocket of her robes.

"Please, try to understand," Sam said cautiously, feel terribly aware of the thin wand she held in the other hand, "In our line of work, it pays to be prepared."

A scrutinizing silence met his statement.

"We weren't going to use it if we didn't have to," he added quickly, trying to suppress the fear he felt so it didn't show in his face.

"Use what?" Dean muttered from where he lay on the couch, stirring quietly.

"Oh, I think your brother's waking up," Hermione nodded toward Dean.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, turning to look at him as far as he could in his seat, "Just relax, OK? I think she just wants to talk."

"Talk?!" Dean sputtered. "That friggin' thing jumped on me and knocked me out. First chance I get, I'm gonna-"

Hermione cleared her throat vociferously, frowning sharply at him. "That 'thing' was my friend, Remus. In case you haven't thought of it yourself, if Remus was truly out for blood, he would've killed you. Instead, he only did as much as he had to, and just knocked you unconscious, and waited for me to come manage things since he's somewhat indisposed while transformed."

"Yeah, well, this ain't no _picnic in Poughkeepsie_ for us, either," Dean retorted, sitting up despite the obvious effort it took, which showed in his face.

Sam raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly at Dean, hoping he got the idea. This was the trouble with code words, he thought silently. Don't do it, Dean... "Just chill for a minute," Sam pressed as it became obvious he wasn't making any moves to relax, Dean struggling to sit up straighter, the muscles in his face tense portending the attempt he was about to make.

"Yeah, well, chill ain't in my vocabulary right now," he muttered, shooting Sam a look that said, 'you better be with me.'

"No," Sam said again, rolling his eyes. "Just, shut up and-"

With that, Dean jumped from the couch, attempting to dive for the rifle where it was propped against the fireplace.


	2. Chapter 2

So I admit, I haven't done much with the HP universe in quite some time. Any pointers on details and such are welcomed, although I decided to take the wiggle room AU gives and have some fun with it.

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><p>But instead of getting to it, he fell to his knees on the floor, gasping.<p>

"Holy crap," he muttered, breathless.

"Your brother told you not to get up, didn't he?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she moved towards Dean.

"Hands off, bitch!" Dean snapped as she reached for him.

"You know, I really don't appreciate that," Hermione said sharply. "And as I told your brother a moment ago, it's useless to you without ammunition. And, as you've clearly failed to consider, your leg is fairly badly injured, possibly broken. Now, if you'd let me help you back onto the setee, I could tend to your leg, that is, if you don't attempt anymore shenanigans. I can restrain you with just a word if I need to. However, your brother has proven himself to be reasonable and intelligent and has cooperated without necessitating such measures. Please, make it easier for all of us and do the same."

"Whatever," Dean muttered, scowling as he allowed her to grab his shoulders, helping him stand on his good leg. A few awkward hopping steps later, Hermione supporting him beneath the shoulders from behind, she let go of him to let to sit back on the couch.

"See now? I am not trying to harm you, although it seems you'd gladly hurt me." Hermione said, giving Dean a reproachful look.

"Whatever," Dean huffed, frowning angrily, looking between Hermione, Sam, and the rifle he'd failed so miserably to retrieve.

"Whatever?" Sam scoffed. "Dude, you do realize she's being pretty freaking nice for someone holding us captive, yeah?"

"Although I can see why you'd think that, understand this is more a citizen's arrest until we have what happened earlier sorted." Hermione corrected, her tone civil.

"Yeah, no, I understand," Sam nodded. "Point is, Dean, don't do anything to piss her off, please. She's a pretty powerful witch, and well, you're in no shape to fight—"

He broke off as Hermione gave him an exasperated look.

"Not that we should try that anyways. It's kind of nice not having to fight for once." Sam added quickly, his tone placating.

"Yeah, because killing and torturing when you have to is such a bad thing when the shit out there we're stopping is hellbent on mauling every freaking living thing in sight and, oh, yeah, starting the damn apocalypse!" Dean exclaimed.

The look of disgust and horror that crossed Hermione's face made Sam squirm.

"You're a twisted individual," she murmured in a measured tone, frowning at Dean.

"What can I say? The world's full of nasty shit that needs killing. Somebody's got to do that job. Now it ain't pretty, but that's us." Dean returned with a tone of spiteful swagger, smirking slightly as her expression twisted with revulsion.

"Dean! That's not helping," Sam reproached, sending his brother a hard look.

"What? It's true—"

"True or not the more you reveal of yourselves the less comfortable I am with the idea of you walking free." Hermione cut in, shaking her head. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have a call to make."

"A call? What, you're excusing yourself because you're so sure we're gonna be all polite like your usual British prisoners and have tea or some shit while your back's turned?" Dean quipped.

"No, actually, I'm not leaving the room. Still, I have half a mind to take the precaution of setting charms to prevent you from leaving the settee again. Not merely for my own convenience, but for your safety, for which you seem to have very little regard." Hermione replied curtly.

"Go ahead, witchy-bitch," Dean grinned.

"Oh, God," Sam muttered, shaking his head. "Just let her make her call or…whatever it is witches do."

"Really? Why the hell would we do that? What makes you trust her, huh? Did you get knocked in the head like I did when that _thing_ jumped on me? She could up and kill us soon as she wanted to—" Dean blurted, glaring incredulously at Sam.

"I can assure you," Hermione murmured, shaking her head, "I have no interest in causing you any further harm. The injuries you incurred earlier are unfortunate, but could be healed easily if you'd allow me to help you."

"Like hell you're gonna touch me again," Dean hissed, glaring at her.

"Just listen to her," Sam added, "And don't try anything again. Please."

"Fine," Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Thank you," Hermione replied, with a hint of sarcasm as she turned to a small pot on the mantle above the fireplace. From it, she took a pinch of powder, which she threw into the low flames that flickered in the fireplace.

They grew suddenly, flaring to the height of the top of the fireplace, turning brilliant green. Dean and Sam watched, amazed, as a voice came from the fireplace, saying, "Floo Network Authority, please state the intended recipient of your call."

Hermione spoke into the fireplace, "Yes, the Potter home, please."

"What the-" Dean muttered, looking at Sam, who shrugged exaggeratedly to convey his own loss for an explanation.

"One moment," the voice returned, the flames dying back a bit to an ethereal purple as strains of rock music filtered out from the crackling fire.

"What?" Sam laughed. "Are you on hold?"

"Yes. Since my father in law came to be in charge of Department of Management of Communications and Wizarding Technology at the Ministry, he's found great delight in experimenting with changing our systems to mirror the and efficiency, and in cases where that's wanting, the experience of the Muggle systems. It's also supposed to help ease tensions by highlighting the similarities of the Muggle way of life and ours, although I'm not sure how well that will work."

"Well, least it's not elevator music," Dean cracked.

"No, they feature various Wizarding artists each day depending on the hour. It promotes cultural growth and supports fledlging artists and whatnot. This particular song is by Wizardica."

"Wizardica? What, you have rock too?" Dean laughed.

"Yes-" Hermione returned, holding up her hand suddenly as if to pause the conversation when a voice from the other end came up.

"Hello? Hermione?" A male voice asked.

"Oh, Harry, good, you're there," Hermoine sighed. "I was afraid you'd still be at the event for the Ministry. We've had a bit of an incident. There's Muggles from the States here-" Hermoine said gazing into the flames, sighing crossly as Dean cut her off.

"The States? Really?" Dean snarked. "If you're gonna be all snobbish, at least get it right. It's Kansas, dude."

"Fine, Muggles from Kansas, if you insist," she corrected herself, giving Dean a look. "But as I was saying, we have a problem. They were going to kill Remus and Teddy."

"What? Is everyone OK?!"

"Yes, Remus stopped them in time. However, I wouldn't mind if you'd come over and try to help straighten things out. We're at my place. Ron and the kids are gone for the weekend, and well, I'd greatly appreciate the help, if you could make sure they don't do anything while I try to go talk to Remus and Teddy. They're understandably quite shaken up by this."

"Yes, of course. I'll be over in just a moment," Harry returned.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione murmured, sighing as the floo call ended, the flames dying back to their normal orange.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry it always takes me so long to get updates up. I have a few too many stories going at once-13 to be precise, so that's why I update so haphazardly. Also I got some input from a friend who's well versed in the HP universe so I went back and reworked some of Hermione's dialogue in the first two chapters to more accurately reflect her canon character. As always, any input on that sort of thing is quite welcome.

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><p>"So, who were you calling?" Sam asked casually.<p>

"An old friend," Hermione returned, her tone even.

"What the hell's this?" Dean spoke up, directing his attention to the fireplace, where large green flames were growing.

"Ah, yes, that would be Harry," Hermione nodded.

As she spoke, the flames died back suddenly, the opening to the fireplace growing in size to that of a door as a figure with long dark dress robes appeared in it.

A man stepped out, wiping soot from his glasses as he greeted Hermione. "Thank you for calling me. I just got home from the event. I hope we can get this sorted."

"As do I," Hermione returned, hugging her friend.

"Pshh, wouldn't count on that," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

"So, I take these are the people who threatened Remus and Teddy," Harry asked, looking at Sam and Dean across the room.

"Yeah, I guess that's us," Sam replied, his tone placating, earning a nod from Harry.

"Yes, I see. Who are they exactly?"

"Sam." "Dean." The brothers each answered.

"OK, so what happened?" Harry asked.

"Well you heard my version of events," Hermione mused. "Perhaps you'd like to hear theirs. And I should really go check on Remus and Teddy. I'll be back soon."

"Yeah, if that's not asking too much," Dean snarked.

"No, I don't think it is. I'd like to understand your motivations for attacking our friends. Go on, explain yourselves," Harry replied, staring at the Winchesters as Hermione alighted out the door.

"Well, for starters, a friend of ours heard about some weird attacks over here. So he sent us along to check it out," Dean nodded.

"To check it out? Do you mean to say this is something you do regularly?" Harry asked, expression skeptical.

"Well, yeah," Dean scoffed. "We're hunters. Dealing with freaks and monsters is kind of in the job description for us."

Harry's expression shifted uncomfortably at the words, but he allowed Dean to finish speaking.

" Anyways, Cas zapped us off over here, and we started staking out around the town we landed in. Except there wasn't crap going on. Totally boring little town, I mean, the whiskey at the pub's not bad, but, yknow, not much else to do." He chuckled slightly at his own joke, which earned an eye-roll from Sam.

"Yeah so after that, we started scouting around for sightings, attacks, incidents, anything that might be a real case." Sam continued the story.

"Then we heard about this place," Dean smirked. "Sightings of a large furry wolf-man creature running around on the full moon, so we were like, hell, yeah, we're coming to check it out."

"That's all very well," Harry cut in, crossing his arms as he regarded the brothers. "But why on earth were you trying to kill them? They haven't harmed _anyone_."

"We weren't," Sam sighed. "We were just staking out the edge of town where there had been sightings."

"But I take that gun is yours," Harry replied, his tone troubled, as he gazed at the rifle propped against the fireplace.

"Well, yeah!" Dean exclaimed. "Try looking at it from our angle, if it wouldn't kill you. We were going to check out reports of a monster. Monsters in our experience_, love_ killing people. Werewolves rip your heart right out of your chest soon as look at you. You'd have to be friggin' suicidal to go into that unarmed. So yeah, sue me._ We_ go in prepared."

"I'm sorry, did you just imply werewolves routinely kill people by mauling them and removing their hearts?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised in alarm so that a jagged scar on his forehead showed behind his bangs.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I did. Because they do. And there's no other way to stop them without getting in range but a silver bullet."

Sam shifted uncomfortably at this. "He's right," he spoke up quietly. "I met one once, we thought she was the victim. Except…she wasn't. She didn't realize it was her turning until it was almost too late. When she realized what she was, she begged me…"

"To, do what, exactly?" Harry inquired, his scrutinizing gaze trained on Sam as he pulled a wand from the pocket of his robe.

"To kill her," Sam murmured slowly, his voice low as he stared down at his hands.

"And you did as she asked?" Harry sighed, the hint of exasperation that bled into his voice spelling the displeasure at what he was hearing, the fervent desire to have his suspicions go unconfirmed.

"Yes…" Sam sighed, cringing as the memories came pouring back. "Please believe me," he blurted, "I didn't want to, but she knew what she would keep doing, keep killing people, and….there's just no other way."

"See? Much as you seem to want to call us indiscriminate killing machines, you're wrong. He's still messed up about that, and it's been what, six years now?" Dean spouted. "So if you'd quit trying to call bullshit on what we know damn well are the facts—"

"Actually," Harry interrupted, his expression grim, "I'm afraid you're gravely mistaken."

"What the hell are you trying to say—" Dean cut in.

"Let him finish," Sam admonished, shaking his head.

"There's a potion called wolfsbane," Harry explained, eyeing Dean cautiously. "When a lycanthrope takes it before the full moon, it allows them to remain aware and in full control when they transform. Your most frightening error tonight was in assuming that my friends posed a danger. But the fact is, they mean no one any harm at all. It's true, they are lycanthropes, but they take great pains to maintain full control of themselves. They're good people. And you could've really hurt them."

"But—how?" Sam blurted. "We have been over the lore again and again. There is nothing like this at all for normal werewolves. Unless they're within a few generations of the Alpha, a pureblood, especially once they taste human blood, they lose all control when they turn. And there's nothing that can be done about it—"

"I don't know where you're getting these ideas," Harry said, shaking his head. "But you're incorrect. In fact, I don't even know what you mean by 'purebloods,' either. It's almost like we're talking about different creatures."

"Wait, wait," Sam exclaimed, looking at Dean. "What if we are? What if Cas screwed up?"

"What? You think he sent us to the wrong place?" Dean asked, realization crossing his face.

"Yeah, what if he did? Because you know, this is not how werewolves work, _at all_." Sam said, now turning to Harry. "And no offense to you, but we know what we're talking about. We've been doing this all our lives. And I did not kill Madison without a _damn _good reason."

.

"Well," Harry muttered. "I'd certainly like to think you didn't kill anyone without necessity. Werewolf or otherwise. And I'm not saying you did. But I don't quite follow your train of thought. What do you mean by 'wrong place?' And who exactly is Cas? Is he the friend you said 'zapped' you here?"

"Yeah, so Cas. He's an angel," Dean explained, his seriousness melted away into a chuckle as he watched Harry's face twist with befuddlement.

"Really, dude, you're a wizard and you haven't heard of angels?" He asked, his tone incredulous.

"No, I've heard of angels," Harry replied, brow furrowed with puzzlement. "In the Bible, and in the Christmas story like everyone else… But you're saying he's a real live angel?"

"Yep." Dean grunted, sharing a look with Sam, who chuckled too despite himself.

"So, uh, angels, right? They're kind of like what's in the Bible, warriors of Heaven. Anyways, we've been kind of…occupied the past several years fighting crazy plans they keep hatching," Sam explained.

"Fighting what, angels?" Harry asked, staring quizzically at Sam. "I thought they were forces for good, for Heaven."

"Yeah, sure, forces for Heaven, maybe," Dean scoffed. "But the Heaven we know would just as soon take a big shit on the planet and kick us humans right off of it. Angels we've met are giant douches. They _want_ to bring the End of Times. And you can take our word for that. We were there when it went down. And_ we_ had to stop them."

Sam remained silent, frowning at the fireplace as Dean explained in overly general terms what had gone on. And the vagueness was a good thing, he decided.

"Uh, sorry, I had no idea," Harry mumbled. "But then…if it was the end of times, wouldn't we have heard of that here in the UK?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Dean nodded. "I mean, even in America most people had no idea what was going on. But that would only count if your UK is the same as our UK. See, angels, they've sent us to another universe before. And if Sam's right, this might be what this is."

"So you believe you're in the wrong universe," Harry nodded.

"Yeah."

"Is there any way you could confirm it, though?"

"Actually, yeah," Dean muttered.

"Hey, Cas! Come on down here, we've got a question for you and we're in a real good fix, so maybe if you could convince these people, that'd be nice." He called skywards.

All three men stared at the ceiling for a few long moments before Harry broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, but is he supposed to be coming?"

"In theory," Dean sighed. "But if we're in the wrong universe, he's not gonna show. So either he's busy, or we're in the wrong friggin universe."

"I vote the second," Sam suggested, "I mean he knows we're here, he sent us. He should be on call to bring us back."

"Agreed," Dean said. "Great job Cas. Great friggin job…"

Just then the door opened, Hermione coming in, followed by two fully transformed werewolves.


End file.
